


Master Song

by Morbane



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Flirting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/pseuds/Morbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Menolly writes a song about Robinton, and, possibly, for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voksen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/gifts).



> 8 June 2013 - Posting a short earlier work to help with motivation to work on my current projects. Sorry about the nothing-new notification, voksen. ^!^

Robinton placed his mug of klah and the last segment of a berry tart next to a set of parchment pages fanned across his desk, regarding them with anticipation. These were the final versions of two short ballads Menolly had composed: histories of the Healers’ and Farmers’ crafthalls, to be presented to Oldive and Andemon, respectively, at an upcoming Gather. It was a project Robinton had conceived of a long time ago, and it satisfied two good aims: history and flattery.

The mug was dry and the tart merely a pleasant aftertaste when Robinton finished the final page, lost in thought: not of corrections to the work, but in visions of the past. He knew all too well that the path of progress depended not just on good ideas, but on who championed those ideas. A list of procedures (vaccination, the study of blood, runnerbeast breeding) might sound dry, but in celebrating the inventors and guardians of knowledge, such songs could never truly be dull. 

Bundling the parchment up again, he saw a faint scribbling on the back of one of the sheets: another musical score. This was no complex ballad arranged for voices, drums, and strings: it was a simple melody, and Robinton hummed it out almost without thought. It was a light tune, playful and clear. He squinted to see the words, even fainter, and found himself blushing:

_My love is a man of silver hair_  
 _He has also a silver tongue_  
 _He’ll set you to laughing, and dreaming, and hoping_  
 _Until his tune you’ve sung_

_For my love is a lover of knowledge_  
 _And he sees both far and wide_  
 _The truths once lost in the distant past_  
 _And the future where dragons ride_

Unpolished, but charming. It could only be Menolly’s work. And he was still humming it under his breath. 

Robinton sighed. Very neatly, he wrote over the words to ensure they were illegible, drew a large square around the tune, marked it off to be ignored, and carried the whole bundle off to be copied. It was not practical to throw the precious sheet away – which had nothing to do with whether he wanted to.

* * *

The gather was a roaring success. Graciously hosted at the farmers’ Crafthall, it was clearly no burden on Andemon, the chief host. After the ballads, and several speeches, the assembly dissolved into mellow mingling. Robinton was touched by the excitement in the faces of the journeymen his fellow Mastercrafters saw fit to introduce him to. They were awed by the heritage their institutions claimed.

A sad lack of Benden white was the only flaw, Robinton mused – and so he did not indulge in his cups as much as he might have, towards the end of the gather. So he caught, from the musicians’ dais, a tune he’d only recently managed to get out of his head.

No, surely…?

He made his way closer in almost unseemly haste, only to find he did not recognize the words. The song’s subject was innocuous enough: a clever tune comparing one’s pride in advancing through a profession to the glory of Dragonsearch. Menolly should have cleared it with him, but he did admire it. And it was better than the other option.

He raised a glass to her in salute, and she smiled out at the audience, sparing an especial wink for him. 

Oh, Menolly, light of an old man’s days.

Had he been _meant_ to see those words?


End file.
